


Blame

by orphan_account



Series: Peter Parker's Plight with Blindness [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Black Markets, Child Abuse, Crying, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Foster Care, Gen, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Orphans, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter is a Little Shit, Protective Matt Murdock, Social Anxiety, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Very explicit language, captain america would be dissapointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22128382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: May was dead. It was going to happen eventually, that's just how the world works. Peter knew that. He also knew that the foster system was a bitch. A bitch that makes you move schools, towns, lose all your friends, sells your phone for drug money, and lets you leave your house to wonder the streets at 2 am to 6 am. But it also opened the opportunity to meet some really cool people that will help you so much more than you will ever know in the future.**REWRITING**
Relationships: Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker
Series: Peter Parker's Plight with Blindness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592851
Comments: 7
Kudos: 204





	Blame

Jim was not his dad and Harriet was not his mom. They are just addicts trying to get a check every month for graciously 'opening their home' to a poor orphan boy. Peter's life was completely ruined, or at least it was to him. He had to move from Queens to Hell's Kitchen, ended up somewhere near 49th and 11th, he had to move schools. It gets better, don't worry, Peter never technically 'left' Midtown, he just stopped showing up. So eventually, Midtown terminated the scholarship that was funding his tuition, but he can't ever go back because these people were more poor than May, they'd never be able to afford tuition, let alone get him to Queens every day. At least May tried to make sure he had at least the bare necessities, these so called 'parents' were spending all their money on heroin, cocaine, and prostitutes. They even sold Peter's phone. He wanted to talk to someone, get things off of his chest, find a healthy way to vent, but he couldn't even do that. They had unknowingly taken Spider-Man from him. That part wasn't their fault though, he had to salvage parts from the Spider-Man suit to sell just to come up with enough money to eat, he was also stuck in a dinky 2 bedroom apartment and the window in his room was made of 500 year old whale scrotum. He tried opening it once and got yelled at because "we aren't paying to heat the outside." as Jim says. He tried to open it a second time and that was the first time he got hit. It wasn't anything that would've left a mark, just a quick, sharp slap to the face. Peter even thought about hitting back, but h knew if he did then they'd realize how strong he is and his identity would be compromised, then he wouldn't be able to stop. if they found out his identity, if anyone found out his identity, he'd kill them. He hated that that was the way his brain thought now. It made him sick to his stomach, but not as sick as Jim and Harriet made him.

The end of the line was only after about 2 months of living there. Jim and Harriet had a couple prostitutes over and were doing cocaine in the living room, probably going to end up all having sex just across the hall from Peter. So Peter decided that was enough. He opened his window, met with the loud screeching it made, only to hear the sound of Jim's work boots stomping down the hall. Peter's door slammed open. 

"What the fuck have I told you about the window, boy?" Jim yelled.

"Listen, if you guys-" Peter started but was cut off.

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION." Jim demanded.

"JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONE GODDAMN SECOND." Peter yelled back. Jim stilled and for a moment Peter thought this would be the end of him, but the end of him never came, and Jim waited for Peter to speak, "I can't control what you guys do. This is your house. But I do not want to be here when whatever you're doing happens, so I'm gonna go out. I'll be back at 6 to get my bag for school, you won't hear from me, I won't bother you. Just let me leave."

Jim thought for a second. "Fine. If you get hurt, don't come back. I don't want you blood all over my carpet." And that was it. Jim left, slamming the door on his way out, and for the first time since May's accident, Peter felt relief. He looked down at what he had on; Black jeans and a black sweater. 'Not great' he thought, 'But it could be worse.' he grabbed a pair of black gloves, since it was early February in New York, and jumped onto the fire escape outside his window. He felt the breeze dance across his face and listened. Hell's kitchen was quiet, well, as quiet as New York could get. He quietly climbed his way down, feet hitting the concrete sidewalk, and started walking. He didn't exactly know where he was going, it was 1 am and this definitely wasn't the safest, Jim didn't want him going home if he got bloody, but Peter didn't care. He's dealt with and hidden wounds before and never got blood on May's carpet. He walked and walked for what felt like hours until he heard it. A woman was crying and yelling about a block away, Peter's fingertips tingled with adrenaline and his legs yelled at him for not starting to run already. He ran and got there in record time. There was a naked women laying, pressed into a corner as a man started to undo his belt buckle. The man's head whipped around to face Peter,

"Fuck are you looking at kid?" He asked in a deep, baritone voice. Peter noticed the man's face was covered in a black ski mask, but the eye hole was one big hole, not two. He waited a couple more seconds, hoping that the lady would realize he bought her a few seconds to run while ski mask was occupied at trying to figure out what he was doing, and luckily she did. Grabbing her clothes to cover her front, she took off. 

"Great now look what you did. You're gonna pay for that." The man said, rubbing his fist against his hand like you'd see in a movie. He went in for a punch but Peter caught it, swiped the man's feet out from under, making him land flat on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. Peter stomped a foot onto his chest then kicked the man in the ribs, who let out a grunt in pain that sounded way less manly than he did before. The man sat up, most likely to crawl away, but Peter kneed him in the nose. The man let out a small yelp, grabbing his face as his nose started gushing blood, or at least he assumed, he couldn't see any wet spots of blood on the black ski mask since it was so dark outside and there weren't any nearby streetlights, but Peter could easily smell the Iron-smell radiating off of the man. Peter guessed he also knocked out both of the man's front teeth considering how strong the smell was. 

"Wha-what do you want from me? I have $50 on me, take it, just leave me alone!" The man pleaded with a newly discovered lisp, and since he offered so nicely, Peter took it. Something he would've never done when May was alive. _'But she's not'_ he told himself, _'times have changed.'_ The man scurried and limped off with his now empty wallet and Peter started walking home, 50 dollars richer. 

"If I ever see you in Hell's Kitchen again, you won't be able to walk away." Peter called after him, the response he got from ski mask was just him comically limping away, slightly faster.

After walking for a few blocks he heard soft crying. He followed the sound to behind a dumpster, it was the women from before, still looking disheveled, but now clothed. Peter sat next to her and waited for her to stop crying.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, "Did he touch you?"

"No, no he didn't." She said, pulling herself together, wiping her nose.

"He almost did, but you showed up." She paused, taking a breath, then looked at him, "Thank you." It was genuine and full of emotion. It sparked a familiar feeling inside of Peter's stomach. It reminded him of why he did this in the first place, why he was ever Spider-Man. It made him slightly uncomfortable. Part of Peter died with May, and so did Spider-Man. He'd seen the news stories about how Spider-Man was gone, crime rates in Queens had gone up again. But he didn't care, Queens wasn't his problem anymore. 

"Just right place right time, I guess." He said, brushing the feeling off. 

"How can I repay you? Wait, don't answer that, I know! I work 1-8am at the coffee shop down the street on 13th, come in and ask for May, I'll get you anything you want. On the house. For a year." She offered but he didn't really hear it, his heart had already stopped. His mouth felt dry and his stomach got heavy very, very quickly. 

"Your name's May?" he asked, his voice was small. He sounded like a teenager. Maybe because he was a teenager, but he sounded young, and hurt. 

"Yeah, yeah it is, why?" She asked.

"I just knew a May, it's no big deal. Hey, just so you know, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I gotta stay low if I wanna keep doing this. If you wanna do me a favor, then don't tell anyone about me." Peter said standing up, brushing himself off. 

"But I don't even know who you are, so how-" May started, but Peter cut her off by starting to walk away.

"Let's keep it that way." And with that, he was on his journey home, $50 in his pocket, and a full heart knowing he saved May. Not his May, not even a May he knew, but he saved May. The sun was starting to come up over the horizon as Peter felt himself smile a little, he glanced down at his watch. 5:40. He had 20 minutes to get home. So he ran, and he ran towards the sunrise. 

Peter started a new routine that night. Every night Jim would give one loud bang on his door and that was Peter's cue that Jim and Harriet would either be doing drugs, fucking, or both. So he'd leave. He knew he'd leave even if they had a night where they didn't do that stuff, but so far, it was every night. He'd leave in his black jeans, sweater, and gloves and go stop wannabe muggers and rapists. He'd get the occasional drug deal, but he'd normally leave those out unless there was violence, in fear of accidentally putting Jim and Harriett's dealer out of commission.

It only took 2 nights until Peter decided he needed a mask. He skipped school that day. He wasn't too worried about it though, sure it' bring his GPA down but he already had all his credits to graduate, all he needed to make sure was he didn't get truancy. He walked all the way into the city that day, with his $50. He found a little ski and snowboarding shop. He walked in and saw snowboards decorating the wall. 

"Snow-where is better than SnowWear, How may we help you" A man, no older than 20, sounding absolutely done with everyone's shit and it was only 2pm, called from the back of the store. Once he made his way to the front, he looked Peter up and down. "Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked Peter.

"It's my birthday, so my mom said I didn't have to go today." Peter lied through his teeth.

"Ah, happy birthday man, what're ya looking for? A new board? New Skis?" He asked from behind the counter.

"No, actually, my board is pretty new and is still in good condition," Peter was surprised with how naturally the lies came, "I just hate when you're going down a slope and the air feels so cold it burns your face, so I'm looking for a mask."

"Reasonable, reasonable. There's a display with a bunch of different colors. Just over there." The man said, pointing in a direction.

Peter went back to where the man had pointed, and sure enough, there was a display with all colors and styles of ski masks. He chose black obviously, it was the only color that would match if he wanted to stick with the all black gimmick. 

He payed the$19.00 price at the counter and left. 

He ended up finding another shop, just a little shop kinda like a goodwill, it wouldn't hurt to look around, so he didn't. He ended up finding an all black leather tool belt. Not exactly what he thought he'd be buying but he didn't care. He brought it up to the counter.

"Will this be all for you today?" The lady asked, studying Peter. 

"Yes, that's all." 

"Why aren't you at school, boy?" she quizzed him.

"Oh, tomorrow's my dad's birthday and my mom and I are shopping for him. We split up to cover more stores. I thought I'd get him that because he's a handyman." _3 lies in one day, nice Peter, that has to be a new record._

"That's so sweet, I wish there were more boys out there like you." _'No you don't. I almost kill people every night._ ' Peter thought. 

"Well thank you." He said with a fake smile. 

That night, he used the tool belt to hold smoke bombs and some weird noise poppers that sounded like gunshots he bought out of an alleyway a few days back. He also added going to the coffee shop, at 4am, to the routine. It scared May the first time, because not just anyone walks into a coffee shop at 4am with a ski mask on, but eventually she got used to it and looked forward to their 4am chats.

It had been a few days and Peter's new vigilante-persona was thriving. The news caught on even, calling him 'The Ghost' mainly because he dressed in all black, he was disappointing with how not creative it was, but appreciated the effort. He hoped that The Ghost had been heard all the way in upstate New York. Maybe Stark would see and know it was him and come down and save him or even not know it was him but want to get him involved like he did the Spider-Man. God, he hadn't talked to Stark since Harriet sold his phone for heroin money. He wondered how often Stark thought of him. 'He was more important things to do than worry about a teenager.' Peter thought. 

A few nights later, Peter was out on a normal patrol, or at least it started out normal. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window as he was climbing down the fire escape. He was dressed head to toe in all black. It was funny almost, how different he looked now compared to when he was Spider-Man. He used to be so flashy and colorful practically begging everyone to look at him, and now he blended in with the night so well, almost no one knew where he was. He stopped two muggings and a would-be carjacking. He was proud of himself and ready to call it a night when he stuck his nose where it shouldn't have gone and witnessed some kind of weapons dealing. It was truly his fault, it's not like the deal was happening in an alley like it should've, it was literally taking place in the middle of the street. Peter watched from a distance, mask and black gloves on. His hand hovered over the supplies in his belt the whole tie he watched. Something in the back of his head was telling him not to get involved, maybe it was the hold Peter trying to come back, maybe it was the trauma of getting a building dropped on him the last time Peter dealt with black market weapons dealing. The deal seemed to have gone well, one of the men left. The other turned and started walking towards Peter. Peter didn't move just in case he'd walk past, maybe he just needed to go in this direction and would pass Peter. He probably wouldn't even see him, Peter's dressed in all black. 

Peter watched closely as the man walked towards him, then they locked eyes, and Peter's heart dropped. He stood and tried to bolt.

"Don't even try it." The man said. His voice had a slight hint of a Russian accent, but it was almost completely covered up by another Boston accent. Peter stopped at his words. He never thought that when it came to fight or flight, he'd choose freeze. The man got almost toe to toe with Peter. 

"What did you see?" He asked, but Peter didn't respond.

"WHAT DID YOU SEE?" He asked, loudly this time.

"I-I saw it all." Peter squeaked out.

The man grabbed Peter and shoved him, hard, against the nearest wall, taking his hands and holding the over his head, pulling one of his wrists back until there was a sickening crack and cry in pain from Peter, "And you're not going to tell anyone what you saw, right?" his voice was unnervingly calm now.

"Right." Peter said, voice shaking, if he dies or gets hurt, there's no back up. He can't call Mr. Stark or Steve. He can't have Bucky stitch anything up. No Karen to talk him through his anxiety. He is completely on his own.

The man let go of Peter's hands and grabbed his ski mask, trying to pull it off, but Peter grabbed the bottom with his good hand, keeping it down. So the man shoved him down so he was sitting. He felt what was the start of something similar to road rash start to for on his shoulder blades from the rough brick against his back.

"Awe, does the ghost have an identity to protect? Maybe got a special someone he doesn't want to get hurt?" The bearded man teased. At least he knew of the Ghost.

"I have no one I care about, I don't care who you kill. It won't stop me." Peter responded, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice. The man stared into Peter's eyes for a moment, looking for something, and he obviously found it.

"That's bullshit and you know it." The man sighed, rolled his eyes, then let go of Peter who instantly stood to his feet and backed away. "If you aren't gonna stop playing the good guy, I'd suggest you stay out of Hell's kitchen. If you have any brain cells up there, you'll know this is a business you'll want to stay out of. Everyone you've ever loved will die, I don't need your identity to figure them out. Now get out of here before my boss finds out I didn't kill you." Peter ran. He ran for miles, he ran until he couldn't breathe anymore. 

That night Peter screamed when he re-broke and reset his wrist in the back of an alleyway. It was 6am at this point and he still had an hour walk home, he didn't make it in time for his 4am hot chocolate. He didn't make it home in time for school. He had to pick the lock on his front door, once he got the door open he saw Jim, sitting on the ratty, torn-apart sofa, facing away from him.

"Take a seat, kid. We need to talk." Peter's mind slowed as he felt his fight or flight response trigger. He had his way to a dusty armchair and sat down. _'He knows.'_ Peter thought.

"Wanna explain the money?" He asked. A little bit of relief flowed through Peter's chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He deflected. 

"Oh Bullshit! I went through your room. You had $30 dollars in there. You sure as hell don't have a job. Where'd you get the fucking money?" Jim demanded.

"I found it. I saw it blowing out of an alley when I went out a few nights back." Peter tried.

"Don't believe it. Are you selling drugs or some shit?" 

"Absolutely not! You out of all people should know I hate that shit. I'm never going to stoop to the point where I need to sell or do drugs because I'm too fucking sorry to better my life in any way." Peter knew that was risky, it was 100% directed right at Jim. He knew he shouldn't have said it when a punch landed right over his left eye. Pain blossomed throughout his face, Jim took the opportunity of Peter being stunned to shove him off of the chair and onto the floor. He tried to kick Peter in the ribs, but his arms where coming his torso. Peter scrambled to his feet, delivering one single punch to Jim's face. It was't enough to make anything bleed or break, but it was enough to piss him off. 

"I'm giving you 5 minutes to get out of this house. I don't care how far you try to run. I'm going after you!" Jim threatened. Peter knew he'd always be able to out run, out-hide, and outsmart Jim.

"Come and get me." Peter smiled, nose bleeding down and into his teeth. The scene was gruesome, it was almost weird how it didn't feel too far from natural for Peter. Almost.

He bolted for his room, grabbing his belt and mask from underneath the floorboards under his bed. He slipped the mask on, and jumped out his window, knowing exactly where he'd go. 

Jamba's Juice and Coffee.

He walked in. Hearing a women scream, at first he was confused then remembered he was wearing a ski mask and it was breakfast rush. _Wait, Fuck, what time is it?_ Peter checked his watch 7:40. He had 20 minutes until May got off work. He went up to the cashier who was frozen in place, 

"I know I look scary, I promise I'm not gonna do anything to anyone. I just need to see May." He pleaded. The cashier nodded, not taking her eyes off Peter.

"Are-are you The Ghost?" She asked, voice shaking. 

"Yes, I am, now I really need to speak with May." He said, growing impatient. The cashier called back into the kitchen. May came out, wiping her hands on a towel, 

"Bud? Oh my God. You're gonna scare everyone looking like that. You'll be _so_ lucky if no one called the police." May said stopping in front of him, "You missed our 4am, what happened?"

"Some stuff happened. I need to talk to you in private." Peter said.

"Me? Don't you have superhero friends you can do that with?" She asked, Peter responded with steering her towards the direction of the break room. 

An older teen boy wearing the uniform apron sitting in a chair, feet up on a table. Smoking what smelled like a blunt. 

"Get out." Peter said, forcefully. The man dropped the lit blunt, and left, not looking back and with no questions asked. 

"Ok, Bud. What is so important that you had to scare the entirety of the shop." 

"I can't explain everything in depth without going into my whole life story so I'll try to keep this long story relatively short," Peter started.

"Will it be 20 minutes short?" May asked with a slight smirk in her voice.

Peter thought for a moment. "Yeah, probably in 10, even." He paused to take a few deep breaths

"I saw an illegal weapons deal, I've seen 'em before so I knew when I saw it. He threatened me and broke my wrist. Don't ask how it's healed, I can't explain that part to you in 20 minutes. He said he could kill anyone close to me. I have no friends, I have no family. I am a foster kid and I've only been living in Hell's kitchen for about 5 months. You are the closest thing to any kind of family I have and I don't want to see you get hurt." May nodded at his words but didn't seem as scared as Peter thought she'd be.

"I got home late and Jim, my foster dad, found the money the guy who tried to do stuff to you gave me for not killing him, don't worry though I broke his ribs, nose, and he's missing two teeth now. He asked how I got the money and I insulted him, he punched me a few times, I think my nose is broken and now he's after me, I got a 5 minute head start, and it's been like 10." Peter finished. He thought May would be scared or freaked out, but she took it all in, processed it. 

"This Jim guy, he let's you go out every night?" _Oh my God._

"That is what you have to say? I just told you that I watched an illegal weapons deal and you might get killed for knowing me and that's what you're worried about?" Peter laughed, "Oh my god, I love you." He hugged her, and she hugged back, ruffling his hair.

"Ok, touching moment and all, but he seriously let's you go out every night."

"Well, only because he knows I don't like it when he and his wife do heroin and cocaine around me."

"They do drugs around you?" She asked, dumbfounded at what she was hearing.

"Yes."

"And he hits you?"

"Yes." 

"Can I take your mask off?" She asked, Peter paused and thought. _In the end, What's the worst that could happen?_ He slipped the mask off and she instantly went to look at his nose,

"Yep, that's a pretty nasty break. Anyways, how old are you?" She asked.

"Oh, I'm, um, 16. And a half." He answered honestly. He didn't like how his gut reaction was to lie.

"Ok, and now that we're here. What do you want to do."

"Well," Peter said, "I don't know. Get out, maybe. CPS won't do anything though. I've tried. Also stop those weapon guys alnog the way." 

May raised her eyebrows. "OK, well I think I know who can help."

And so they walked, May said she'd take him because her shift was basically over but she had a 2 year old to watch after she got him there so she'd have to part once he got there. Perfect for Peter's social anxiety. Peter constantly checked over his shoulder and looked down every alley way they passed. 

"We're here. I gotta walk home now, but I'll see you at 4." She smiled and waved. Peter hoped that whoever that man was the he saw wouldn't hurt her. He didn't want to ruin some two year old's life just because he had problems that he could only solve by being reckless and a vigilante. 

He looked at the door to the building he was dropped off at. 

Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law.

This was gonna be a long ride.


End file.
